On death and dying and living

An excerpt, from my journal:

My legs ache. I feel dehydrated.

I love dead and dry plants, like trees in winter. I think I will sleep in the kitchen tonight for a while. My room is so cold. I like the kitchen floor.

I don't think I believe in ghosts... but I wonder if this kitchen might have one. I fell asleep in the kitchen for a bit and now I will sleep in my room. Where did these damn flies come from? They are fat, slow, and lazy flies. It's winter. Get outta here! It smells like rice under the quilt thanks to the warm rice pack.

- 12/16/09

Today has been productive. I must have killed at last 15 flies in the apartment just now, following a bicycle ride and errands.

I wonder if any person has ever killed him or herself by laying beneath gigantic sharp icicles and having someone break them off from above so that the pointy winter death tools come flying down and impale his or her guts. Maybe this person would have asked someone to climb on the roof or maybe throw a baseball at them from below. I doubt it would work. I wonder if anyone has simply stabbed him or herself in the gut with an icicle. Or if someone has been accidentally impaled by falling icicles. Just being killed by falling ice isn't enough-- it's the gouging through flesh that would get a lot of attention.

I just killed 9 more flies.

My lips are chapped. And my appetite seems insatiable today, unusual.

There are still at least two flies in the house. I've been on a killing rampage all day.

My wasp bites have been itching terribly.

And I still need a glue stick.

- 12/17/09

Sitting. Waiting. Awkwardly in a room with ... let me scan... 12 other people all wanting to be census workers. I had a semi-decent morning, once I soothed my dry, sore throat with a hot cup of tea and honey under Carson's recommendation. Last night I woke up sweating, parched and had to rip off all my clothes to feel alright. I momentarily considered running out into the snow in only my underwear. 13 people now. I still have not killed all the flies at home. A fat one was buzzing around me during breakfast. I wonder if people who keep dead bodies in their houses after murdering people run into bug problems. Maybe there is a dead person in my walls. I heard a knock this morning but brushed it off as nothing, wondering for a moment if there could be a super-hero on the roof wanting to come in for a hot drink. These people would think I am crazy if they knew what I am writing here. Someone smells like cigarette smoke.

I wonder what ll the other people are thinking. The woman across from me is in a hurry. Now people are arguing about counting houses on the practice test. Some lady keeps saying "stupid, stupid, stupid." "Stupid test, stupid problems, stupid wording, stupid noise." Her hair is crunchy. Maybe she is stupid.

- 12/18/09

I heard and saw a mouse scurrying across the kitchen floor. I can still hear it. I am too cold to sleep in my room tonight with closed doors so I moved my mattress to the kitchen floor again. I am having thoughts of a mouse dancing on my chest in the night as I lay here in my bed.

Just saw the mouse again. He scared me and I scared him. Maybe I will go sleep in my room, although I doubt he will bother me if I just stay right here to sleep. We can share the kitchen.

Carson killed 24 more flies yesterday in my apartment.



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